Purp Seed Oil
by MissFitt
Summary: I'm re-uploading this story with its new R rating, I apologize for imporoperly rating it the first time. Jim/Silver lovey dovey slash, that's about it, R&R please!


Author's note: Yes, this story falls under the category of slash; if you don't like that, then don't read it. Those who do like slash, I hope you will read and enjoy this story, as I worked particularly hard on it. A little background info though: in this story, I am going against the popular theory that Jim is fifteen years old, and going by what the director himself said in the DVD commentary that Jim was five in the opening scene, thus making him 17 in the rest of the film. I always thought Jim was older than fifteen anyway, because no three year old, no healthy one, anyway, has already lost his front tooth, which it is clear Jim had done so. I know to some, two years doesn't make much difference and Jim is still a minor, thus making me a lowbred degenerate for writing about him having a romantic relationship with Silver. But I was seventeen only two years ago, and I remember what it's like. At seventeen, a person is generally much more mature and able to handle such a relationship than they are at fifteen, and besides, I don't know about anyone else, but Jim is more mature than most guys I know, teenage or not. Anyhow, this store takes place within the time frame of the film, all on the RLS Legacy. Happy readings!  
  
"From now on, you won't so much as eat, sleep, or scratch yer bum, without my say so!" Silver's resounding declaration awakened every ounce of teenage rebellion in Jim.  
  
"Don't do me any favors!" The boy shot back.  
  
Silver inched closer to his face and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, his mechanical eye glowing and the gap between his front teeth stark against their surprising whiteness. His entire visage made Jim a bit anxious, mostly due to the apparent hardness, not to mention the extreme height and girth. "You can be sure of that, Jimbo," he replied menacingly, his sadistic smile making Jim angry and a bit scared. "You can be sure of that!"  
  
Stepping back in a huff, Jim withheld the urge to stick his tongue out at Silver and just muttered, "Yeah, whatever."  
  
He tried to briskly turn and walk away, he didn't need to listen to this old hunk of metal! But when he moved quickly, he felt his right leg give out from underneath him, and a lightening fast pain shot up the side of his back to his shoulder blade. He had been rather sore since the confrontation with Scroop an hour earlier, when he had been shoved up against the mast. The pain hadn't been so unbearable that he couldn't finish swabbing the deck, but it seemed to be getting worse. Losing his balance, he nearly hit the wooden deck face first, but Silver's human arm shot out and caught him around the waist.  
  
"Hey now! What's happened here?" The stern tone Silver had used earlier was gone now, replaced by genuine concern. This fact wasn't lost on Jim, and he found himself confused by it. Only a few moments ago, it seemed Silver hated him, and was preparing to make his life miserable for the rest of the voyage. Why would it suddenly matter if Jim were hurt?  
  
"Nothing, I'll be fine," Jim said as he tried to right himself with a shred of dignity. Silver could see through that statement even without a cyborg eye. He kept his arm firmly around Jim's torso.   
  
"Now, ya ain't foolin' no one, Jimbo. I meself have brawled with Scroop upon occasion, ye're lucky to be in one piece! Come into the galley, and we'll inspect the damage." Silver began to lead him to the stairwell going below decks.   
  
As much as he wanted to fight him on this, Jim's back really did hurt, and if Silver could do something about that, then it would be worth admitting to some weakness. In the galley, Silver ordered him to take off his jacket and shirt, and sit down on the stool in front of the counter, near the sink basin. He couldn't pinpoint why, but this suggestion made Jim's chest suddenly clench. Her certainly had every reason to be wary of this man. Admittedly, there was no hard evidence that Silver was the cyborg that burned down his mother's inn, but Jim still wasn't sure he could trust him yet. It wasn't the mistrust making his heart pound though. It was something else. Stripping to the waist and seating himself down, Jim fully realized what it was. He WANTED to trust Silver.  
  
"Now, let's see here," Silver spoke softly, almost to himself. Jim jumped slightly when the cool, metal fingers of Silver's mechanized arm made contact with his back. Warm, fleshy digits soon followed, firm but gentle, feeling around the bruises and strained muscles.   
  
"Ah, Jimbo, I think ye'll survive, unless ye're boneheaded enough to cross Scroop again." Silver chuckled a bit and began to carefully massage along Jim's shoulder blades, avoiding the bruised areas.  
  
As much as Silver's touch was easing the soreness, Jim began to feel very awkward. It was almost humorous to realize that not even the young girls on Montressor, those who showed any interest in him anyway, had ever touched him so intimately. Even during the sessions of mad, hormonal groping that ditching class inevitably led to, the touching was always so hollow, no intangible emotions to enhance the physical pleasure. This man touching his back, easing the strain the deep purple bruises put on him, was quite the unlikely candidate for an emotional bond, but the potential was indeed there.  
  
"I don't plan on it, believe me. That psycho's not worth it." Jim leaned over the counter further, to allow Silver to work down his spine to his lower back. Despite the uncertainties, what Silver was doing to him felt wonderful.  
  
"Heh, no he's not. Unless ye plan on breakin' this current record for personal injury!" As he came to Jim's lower back, near the waistband of his britches, his huge, work-roughened hand seemed to hesitate, as if unsure of how to proceed.  
  
Sensing the hesitation, Jim decided that it was time to end this. He felt almost as if he were blind, fumbling through a cloud of darkness in search of why he was feeling so anxious about Silver touching him, and he guessed Silver felt the same way. Standing up, Jim chuckled lightheartedly, trying to divert the both of them. "Nah, this isn't the worst injury I ever had. I was laid up for a month when I was twelve, flew my solar surfer into a water tower, but I swear, it came out of nowhere!"  
  
They shared a bit of a laugh as Jim pulled his shirt back over his head. Covering his bare torso made Silver more at ease than it did Jim. What the lad didn't know, thankfully, was that Silver had been becoming more and more aroused with every moment, and feeling exponentially more guilty as time went on, too. The whelp had fire in him for certain, but in the end, he was still too young to be so arousing to him. He decided here and now, with his pants straining at the crotch, that he would not let anything like this happen again. It didn't matter that Jim's vitality awakened him, brought out the more boisterous, jovial side he thought he would have to discard in order to carry out the plans he had for this voyage. He had never intended to cause any serious harm to the Captain, Mister Arrow, the Doctor, or Jim, but now he realized he must also prevent his cohorts from doing anything to them as well. Jim didn't notice it, but Silver was about ready to fall over from the weight of his confusion. Caring for the boy was a weakness he could not afford, but still could not deny.  
  
"Well, until those bruises are healed up some, I'll keep yer work to kitchen duties, but don' be thinkin' I'll be soft on ye. Ye'll be scrapin' pots and pans clean until ye can see the pink in yer cheeks in 'em!" It seemed an appropriate time to return to the role of authority figure. It was a safe mask to hide behind.  
  
Jim sarcastically saluted him. "Aye aye, sir!" This was not going to be easy for either of them.  
  
In the weeks that followed, try as either of them might, the strictly professional relationship they tried to develop never came into fruition. The more chores Silver threw at him, the harder Jim found himself working to prove he was capable, and to his own surprise, found he excelled in many of the duties laid before him. He wanted Silver to see him as a man, an equal, or at least a worthy pupil. He tried not to think about the encounter in the galley, but the images kept returning, especially at night in his hammock. There were moments that Jim could swear Silver's hands were on him again, the contrasting cold steel and warm, masculine flesh. As comfortable as it seemed to be, he really didn't want this forming attraction to be real. All he knew of any happenings between men were the juvenile hall horror stories; sadistic guards, frustrated inmates, something about the soap in the communal showers. None of what he had heard of sounded very pleasant, certainly not the kind of action two people who cared for each other would engage in!  
  
The storms in Jim's mind had begun to cause him bouts of insomnia. One night, several weeks into the voyage, Jim found himself unable to sleep again. His bunkmate, Mister Snuff, the Flatulan, slept like a smelly log, so it wasn't hard to slip out of bed and tiptoe downstairs to the hangar bay. A longboat sat near the hatch, semi prepared for a departure. He was supposed to help Silver ready it for a test run the next afternoon. He was quite tempted to try to sneak a quick ride out, but it would most likely make too much noise and awaken someone, probably Silver, who's sleeping quarters were a room with doors leading into both the galley and the hangar. Jim knew any punishment he'd receive for such an offense would be considerable, but most of all, he honestly didn't want to disappoint Silver. He had come on this voyage, map in hand, hoping for some sort of redemption, a way to make people see him in a better light. Silver already saw the good in him, and tried to encourage it to grow, he didn't want to make a liar out of the man who was fast becoming his best friend and mentor.  
  
After making sure the hatch was securely closed, Jim settled on the floor and leaned against the exit of the bay, only two and a half inches of titanium separating him from outer space. Through the protective metal, he could almost feel the hum of oblivion behind him, and it was soothing. The door to Silver's room was directly in front of him, partially hidden by the schooner, but he could see a sliver of yellow light above the top of the door, and wished Silver would come into the hangar right now. There was so much Jim wanted to learn about when it came to intimacy, and he wanted the older man to the be the one to teach him. There were so many desires coursing through him, urges to be touched and treated in ways he never though of until he met Silver. He thought of them now, as he began to undo the buttons on his pants, reaching in almost absent-mindedly. What would it be like to have Silver's hand touching him down there? He recalled the day in the galley when he massaged his back, how his human hand felt. The skin on the old cook's fingers was leathery, but supple and radiating with heat, like a brick left out in the sun. He imagined that same hand slipping between his legs, grasping his cock, and coaxing it into full arousal as Jim now did himself. As the almost fluid rush of pleasure swirled from his nether regions, up into his belly and down his legs, lighting him up from the inside, Jim felt like he was about to sink right through the hatch and go tumbling into the silent darkness. Moving his hand faster, working up and down the length of his member, he imagined wrapping his arms around Silver's broad shoulders. He wanted to cling to him, to close his eyes blissfully and complete the embrace, encircling Silver's ample waist with his legs. If he were held close enough, his up thrust pelvis would allow Silver's own male organ to align with the entrance to Jim's…  
  
Lightening fast, Jim bolted upright, in shock from what he had just thought about. Could that act actually be performed to the pleasure of both parties? The thought of it wasn't repulsive, Jim was perplexed to discover. Even in this very awkward position, sitting alone in a hangar bay, his pants around his ankles, he need only to look down into his lap to see what kind of effect those thoughts had on him. The hand he had been using to manipulate himself moments before began to wander deeper, past the now very constricted fleshy sac, delicately fingering the crease underneath, seeking out the tight opening. The external touching in that area was indeed very pleasant, in a sharp, tingling sort of way. Jim eased himself back down onto the floor, lifting his hips to gain access more comfortably. With a deep breath, he breached the entry way with one finger, slightly past the halfway point, nearly to the knuckle. At first it burned, feeling dry and forced. But once the digit was firmly inside him, he found it wasn't painful, but would probably feel better with some sort of lubrication, He thought of the purp seed oil Silver kept in a flask on the shelf above the sink. In addition to being a low cholesterol cooking oil, Jim had seen Silver apply it to the burns some crewmembers received from staying in the reflection of the solar sails for too long. He surmised that it would probably work well for making his anal passage slippery enough to be penetrated by something larger than his middle finger. His core body heat began to burn his hand, and withdrawing slowly, Jim sighed from the intensity of what he had just discovered. The new sensations aroused him beyond any return. Quickly giving himself a thorough release, Jim hurriedly stood up and righted himself. Sweat beaded around his hairline and he felt flushed and exhausted. Still feeling the phantom pleasure in his bum, he tried to shake it off as he made his way back to the crew quarters. The cool air up on the deck cleared the fuzziness of his thoughts, and it occurred to him that for all the infatuation on his part, Silver might not return an ounce of it. It was quite likely; after all, Silver was a middle aged man, tough and expansive. Would he really feel anything in the way of attraction to a teenage boy?   
  
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"Blast me for a fool!" Silver muttered as he juddered his human hand back and forth, making himself come hard onto the itchy wool blanket on his cot. In his mind though, it was shot into a more sordid place, namely Jim. He couldn't believe he had let this whole mess go so far.  
  
It wasn't a totally new concept to the old pirate. Throughout his entire adult life, he had enjoyed the company of both sexes in his bed. It had been a long time, as long as he has had his cyborg limbs, since Silver had been with anyone. Eight years didn't feel so long until Jim appeared in his life. Before boarding the Legacy, Silver had figured that part of his life was about over. He was nearly fifty anyway; there was a question of morality concerning his tastes for younger men. His last lover had been a twenty-two year old dockhand from Crecentia. Silver was forty-one at the time, and even then he had felt a mild pang of guilt. Now he was even older, and Jim was younger than that last one. He had stayed true to the promise he made to himself about leaving Jim alone, but the desire raged harder than ever before.  
  
Sitting up on his cot, readjusting his pants and shaking his head, Silver sighed with disgust at himself. It wasn't just the age issue. Jim was very vulnerable to him, in more ways than one. The boy was in his charge while on the voyage, making him take on the responsibility of being a male role model to him. Not only that, but if an intimate relationship were to develop between them, the mutiny would become a personal betrayal. Silver would never be able to forgive himself for doing that.  
  
Morph's soft chittering interrupted his thoughts as he emerged from underneath the bed. The little blob couldn't possibly understand the complexities going on in Silver's head, but by floating up and nuzzling the cyborg's cheek, he brought a sort of peace to him.  
  
Silver chuckled at patted Morph's tiny head. "I ain't beyond redeemin' yet, am I, Morphy?" he wondered aloud. "I'm all shaken up, here. I don't wanna do any personal harm to the boy, but that's just what I'd be fixin to do, wouldn't it?"  
  
Morph looked into the cyborg's eyes blankly for a few moments. He had no clue what Silver was talking about, but he heard the words "shaken up," so he thought the right response would be to turn into a tambourine, which he did with a great amount of high pitched giggling. Silver cocked his eyebrow at Morph, half-amused, half-frustrated. What more could he really expect from his silly little pet?  
  
Extinguishing the flames in the oil lamps, Silver was comforted by the darkness of the room. Settling down to sleep, he tried to focus more on the plan for the mutiny, on Flint's Trove and the final payoff of his years of searching. As much as he wanted that climactic moment to come, it was beginning to pale in comparison to a more carnal, and possibly more immoral climax, but one that he was determined never to reach.  
  
The next evening…  
  
Mister Arrow was dead, and Jim could only blame himself. He tried to replay everything in his mind, the star devolving, the lifelines, Silver shielding him with his body as they rode the last wave out of the abyss. He was so fucking sure he had secured them all, but there was no way to go back, no way to change any of it. Silver had tried to comfort him, even held him close for a few moments before sending him away to bed. The older man still believed in him, still encouraged him like he always had. But it wasn't encouragement he was looking for tonight. Jim felt so alone, so worthless, that all he wanted from Silver was some sort of validation through his affection. In short, he wanted sex. He didn't know for sure is Silver returned the attraction, but he felt he had to try to find out. When the Legacy was totally silent, instead of sneaking off into the hangar bay as he had done the night before, he gathered his courage and headed into the galley, on the way to Silver's quarters. It was so late, there was practically no chance of anyone seeing him leave the bunk. The crew had only a precious few more hours to sleep before going back to work, so even if someone did notice him wandering about, it wasn't likely they would do anything about it except roll over and continue snoring.  
  
Tiptoeing down the gangplank, Jim could hear Silver's gears whirring from inside the galley, Surprised and relieved that he was still awake as well, he came down into the galley without worrying about the creaking boards under his bare feet. Silver was poised over one of the long dining tables, jars and bottles of condiments laid out before him, which he was labeling and organizing half-heartedly.  
  
"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" Jim nearly startled him when he spoke, coming up behind him.  
  
"Ah, Jimbo, I rarely sleep in more than small bursts. Not many comfortable positions with all the hardware, ye know."  
  
Jim sat down on top of the table, casually picking up a bottle and rolling it around in his hands. Looking at the label, Silver's scrawling handwriting ironically spelling out "purp seed oil," Jim quickly set it down again, his resolve already wavering. Silver didn't seem to notice his nervousness, so he tried to brush it off.  
  
"Do they ever get in the way of anything else?" Jim looked up at Silver's face, studying the small scars around his mechanical eye, how forceful and dangerous they made his weather face appear. His fearsome visage no longer made Jim nervous, but he still felt his blood race when he stared up at him.  
  
Silver's expression grew tense. What was Jim really asking? He felt it best to avoid the question altogether. "Are ye still upset about what happened?"  
  
Frowning, Jim lowered his gaze. "Not so much. But I'm still seeing everything over and over in my head. I can't shake it."  
  
"Aye, lad. Can't really expect much else. But in all them replays, I hope ye're still seeing that it ain't yer fault." Silver gathered some of the jars and began replacing them on the shelves and in the pantry. To his dismay, he was already entertaining the worst thoughts.  
  
Jim wasn't even thinking straight anymore. What was right or wrong, what mattered or didn't, it all flew out of his head as he hopped off the table and walked over to where Silver stood near the shelves. Wrapping his thin arms around Silver's waist from behind, pressing against his back, Jim began to breathe harder and murmured, "I don't want to keep seeing it anymore. I'm so goddamned overwhelmed by it, I'm being torn apart. Can you put something inside me, to make me forget?"  
  
After getting the words out, Jim fell silent, utterly shocked by what he had just said. There was no going back now, however this all turned out. Silver now knew how Jim felt, and what he had come down to the galley.  
  
Silver spun around, had he indeed heard right? If Jim was taking the initiative, then there was no reason not to indulge him. The boy returned the attraction; it was obvious by the way he now offered himself so blatantly, looping his arms around the old guy's neck, his entire body thrown into the embrace. "I need this…" Jim whispered into his chest.  
  
Before he could even prepare himself for it, Silver's arms were around him, lifting him up off his feet. A few steps forward brought them back to the table, and he deposited Jim back into his seated position. Their gazes locked for a few moments, before Jim took the plunge and kissed Silver full on the mouth. His lips were warm, soft, with a hinting flavor of whiskey and the Zandarian Cannabis from his pipe. Trying to go slowly, Silver took control of the kiss, his good hand stroking Jim's hair while the mechanical arm worked at tugging the boy's shirt from out the waistband of his britches. Pulling away, Jim yanked his shirt off quickly, allowing Silver to study him. The boy was still thin and youthful, but the recent weeks of hard work had made him firmer, given his arms and chest a little more definition. The exposure didn't feel so awkward as it had that first day when Silver inspected his injuries. It rather enflamed him, propelled his lust further. Jim clutched Silver's shirt collar and pulled him close to kiss him again, harder now. He opened his legs to allow Silver to stand between them, and feeling his arousal building full force, Jim dug his nails into the cyborg's shoulders, squeezing flesh on one side, and scraping metal on the other.  
  
Silver broke away from the kiss with narrowed eyes. "Don't be playin' rough if ye don't want it to be returned!"  
  
With a flash of his metal hand, he pushed Jim down onto his back on the tabletop. Looming over him, he brought his massive head down, kissing the side of Jim's neck, raking his teeth lightly over the smooth flesh, slightly carpeted with fine stubble. At least the lad was old enough to shave. Somehow, knowing he had gone through at least one rite of passage into manhood comforted Silver's conscience. His human hand found its way between Jim's legs, feeling the hardness through the fabric of his pants. Rubbing his hand against the ever-growing bulge, he could tell Jim was definitely a man in that department as well.  
  
The reality of Silver touching him like this was better than any of Jim's fantasies, Drawing his knees up and opening his legs wider, he urged him on, allowing the other man to manipulate him further, the sheer size and firmness of his hand nearly sending him over the edge. Their intimate knowledge of each other grew quickly. Silver's mouth explored downwards from Jim's neck, over his chest, down his belly, leaving red, moist bite marks near his navel and under his ribcage. Jim's hands worked their way beneath the large, tent-like shirt Silver wore, feeling the varying firmness of his arms, broad chest and stomach. He even went so far as to undo Silver's belt buckle and partially pull down his pants, before being submissively restrained, his arms pinned above his head by the cyborg arm. Neither one was gentle with the other, all the sexual tension building between them prevented any long, drawn-out love play.   
  
When Jim wrapped his legs around Silver's hips and pressed his bum into his crotch, feeling the massive obelisk of naked flesh right through his pants, he briefly wavered again. Would it fit inside him without causing injury, or at least extreme pain? The fear tasted acidic in his mouth, but ultimately, he trusted Silver not to harm him. Their eyes met once more as they grinded into each other, the friction between their bodies making Jim's chest clutch with pleasure.   
  
"I want it! Please.." Jim could barely choke out the words as he watched Silver's face, memorizing every line, every bead of sweat on his brow.   
  
The verbal pleas shot Silver into action, roughly hauling Jim to his feet and turning him around. His heart thudding almost painfully fast, Jim leaned over the tabletop, resting on his elbows and eyeing the flask of oil, still on the table. He held his breath and waited for Silver to reach for it.  
  
The sight of Jim bent over like that, his pants partially unfastened and riding teasingly low on his narrow hips, captivated Silver so much that he had to pause just to admire him. The position made Jim so vulnerable to the pirate, and he had gone into it on his own. He was moved by the boy's perfect trust in him. He reached his hand out over Jim's naked back, aiming for the flask, when the full realization hit him. Jim DID trust him, maybe even loved him. Silver loved him in return, and he knew he couldn't do this. The boy was too young to know the enormity of the consequences coupling like this would bring. The mutiny would lead to a betrayal that would fracture Jim's soul irreparably. Perhaps another time, another place, and they would have been able to enjoy each other. But a few moments pleasure wouldn't be worth the lifetime of grief it would bring. It took all his willpower to step away and pull his britches back up. "Get up, Jim Hawkins. This ain't gonna come to pass." Silver's voice cracked when he said Jim's name.  
  
Hurt beyond belief, Jim slowly rose and turned. His face spoke of confusion and anger. "Why not!?"  
  
"Boy, ye have no idea what any o' this would mean! It ain't right, and I wouldn't do such a thing to you to take yer mind off yer troubles!" Silver's voice returned to the harsh, authoritative tone he always used with Jim to mask how he truly felt.  
  
"But-" Jim was cut off before he could finish.  
  
"Enough!" Silver shouted. "Ye're still in me charge, and you'll do as I say, or I'll take me palm to that bum of yers you so eagerly offered up!"  
  
His face glowing red with humiliation and anger, Jim balled his fist and swung blindly at Silver, who promptly caught it and shoved Jim to the ground. His sexual lust quickly transforming into a violent streak, he was prepared to follow through on his threat, but the urge dissolved as fast as it had formed when he saw Jim in a heap on the floor.  
  
He knew it was wrong, too. The weight of the situation pummeled Jim's senses, paining him and making him feel utterly stupid. Realizing this was one of those awful situations where what they both wanted was the most detrimental thing to follow through on. Fighting back his tears, Jim could only whisper over and over, to Silver and to himself, "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"  
  
Silver carefully laid Jim's shirt over him, touching his cheek lovingly. There was really nothing more to say, so before he had the chance to reconsider, he stood tall and walked into his quarters, closing the door behind him. The boy, the person, he loved more than anyone else now out of his sight, so he was free to cry.  
  
His legs shaking uncontrollably, Jim managed to rise to his feet. Silver's scent and the bite marks both lingered on his skin. It was all he could have for now. Seeing that damned flask of purp seed oil on the table, and succumbing to his frustration, Jim grabbed it and flung the glass bottle against Silver's door, enjoying the loud shatter and Silver's startled swearing coming from the other side before he quickly headed back to the crew's quarters. 


End file.
